


Oviproposition

by egocentrifuge



Category: Mythical Entertainment, Rhett & Link
Genre: Egg Laying, M/M, Oh also, Oviposition, Pon Farr, Pregnancy Kink, Well - Freeform, because link neal is involved, egg insertion, essentially, link knows he's an alien, neither of them know what the hell this is, rhett's an alien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: “I’m notpregnant,man, I haven’t had anything anywhere.”“Sure,” Link agrees quickly, not one to be deterred. “But - you know, chickens?”Link knows it’s a stupid thing to say. Knows he’s being, in fact, stupidly single minded. It still makes Rhett snort, and that’s even better than the way his swollen stomach jiggles where Link’s still cupping it.“Sure,” Rhett says. “Chickens.”“Maybe you’re a hen,” Link blurts before he can lose his nerve. “Maybe you just - I mean, these areeggs,right?"





	Oviproposition

**Author's Note:**

> written for easter 2019. praise jesus!

So Rhett is - you know, otherworldly. As in, he’s from another world. Which world exactly, he’s never been able to tell Link for sure (which Link privately thinks is bullshit) but alright, okay, he can say pretty confidently after knowing the guy twenty years that Rhett has no idea about a lot of things related to his entire… condition. Like the time in college Link got up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and found Rhett eating potting soil straight out of the peace lily’s pot, and when Link’d questioned Rhett he’d only been able to provide a helpless  _nitrogen?_

Now that they’re graduated and sharing a house proper, without anyone who doesn’t know about the entire extraterrestrial thing, Rhett’s started to experiment. Not with drugs, or anything - or, well, not the kinda ones meant to give you a good time. Link’ll come home from work and find Rhett tasting detergents with a notebook in front of him and and voice recorder in hand, trying to pinpoint the chemicals he needs, or can tolerate, or will make him as sick as they would Link if he went around sipping Tide.

Link shouldn’t be encouraging it. Shouldn’t have said  _yes_ when Rhett had come to him bug-eyed and sad in college and asked if Link would live with him forever (his reasoning all-but forgotten, something about it being too dangerous for Rhett to try and find a wife who’d understand). Link shouldn’t’ve gotten flushed and stammery and stupid at the concept of Rhett wanting to be with  _Link_ for the rest of their lives -

It wasn’t like that, anyway. Not that Link would’ve wanted - y'know,  _that._  Rhett was his best friend, his brother in all but blood. And… probably a guy. Definitely a guy, societally speaking, though Link’s not so sure about whether Rhett’s even  _got_ junk to back it up.

Something had to be weird, right? If he wouldn’t’ve been able to hide it from a girl. Far as Link knows, Rhett’s never gone past kissing and a bit of hand action… though wouldn’t that have necessitated…?

No. Link’s not thinking about it. He lives with his best friend, who just so happens to be an alien, and it’s all kosher platonic best friend thoughts, here. His best friend whom Link has a mortgage with because, you know,  _Rhett wants to spend his entire life with Link._

Not weird. Well, the alien bit was, but the rest of it made sense.

Which is all to say: Link’s well-used to the process of convincing himself it’s completely acceptable for two unmarried grown men (well, one man and an alien who may or may not have genitals) to live together and it not be at all strange or deviant or abnormal. That’s why it’s such a shock when he wakes up in the middle of the night and Rhett’s right  _there._

Link nearly brains Rhett when he shoots up, that’s how close he was sitting. “Oh -  _shoot,_  dude, don’t - ” His heart’s going a mile a minute; Link clutches his chest as if that’ll help slow it down. “You, you can’t just - what are you  _doing?”_  Even groggy as he is, Link’s spent his whole life explaining things to Rhett that Rhett should have, probably, already understood. He adds a fact to be safe: "We haven’t shared a room in years, brother.”

“Sorry.” Rhett’s still sitting where he had been, right on the edge of Link’s bed. As Link blinks the sleep out of his eyes he realizes that Rhett’s anything but still. He’s swaying slightly where he’s sitting, forwards and back, rocking in place. His voice had sounded strange, too - distant, like he hadn’t fully realized how weird what he was doing was.

“Rhett?”

“Yeah.”

Link scoots a bit closer, close enough that he can reach his bedside lamp. When he turns it on, Rhett is…

Oh. Oh, wow. Oh,  _Jesus._

“Th-that,” Link stammers. “You’re, uh, Rhett, you’ve got - you’re uhm, you're…”

“Yeah,” Rhett repeats, sounding a bit strained. It’s pretty freaking obvious why. Rhett’s hands are resting on his stomach, which is…. Well, you know when you eat too much? And then you eat like ten times that amount without slowing down, and maybe swallow a couple of water balloons in the process? Yeah, that.

“Are you pregnant?” Link blurts. Rhett’s about that size, and with his body? Anything is possible. Link doesn’t focus on how it’s the first thing to come to mind - the one thing he’s lamented most, in the entire  _never getting married in favor of living with his alien bff Thing._

Rhett’s never mentioned wishing he could make more E.T. babies. Link never thought he  _could_. But what if he can? What if that’s what this is?

Rhett doesn’t respond outright, but he gives Link an intensely stupid look that portrays that he thinks Link’s being intensely stupid. Link doesn’t take offense, because the more he wakes up the more he remembers that Rhett’s kind of a hypochondriac (kinda understandably so, considering he can’t ever go to the doctor if he gets real sick, but Link’s never gonna admit that to Rhett). Everything he’s ever gone through is a disease he could get named after himself, or maybe after that homeworld he doesn’t know the name of. Link tries to be considerate.

“Has this uh - ever happened before?” Link amends, keeps himself from adding  _and did you have a baby?_

“No, Link,” Rhett says, with the exaggerated patience of someone who’s freaking out and wants their platonic house co-owner to freak out with them, too. “I have never gone to bed and woken up at three in the morning with - with  _this.”_

Link casts about desperately for something to calm Rhett, one thirds actually wanting him to calm down and the rest of him just wanting this to be as uncontestedly  _awesome_  as Link’s sleep-stupid brain is telling him it is.

“You’re older than you’ve ever been, maybe it’s, you know, your puberty.” Link reaches for Rhett, then freezes as he remembers in the middle of things to ask. “Can I, uh, touch - it?”

It’s a testament to how out of it Rhett is, or maybe how in-sync they are, that Rhett drops the hand closest to Link down, nods. Link presses his trembling fingers against Rhett’s distended belly.

It’s - he sure feels pregnant, alright, which is making Link’s stomach flutter strangely. He rests his palm more fully against the warm skin, risks a stroke down Rhett’s skin. It feels - taut, tight, like… shoot, it almost feels like…

Link traces the outline of something smooth and round, then finds another edge, and another. The only sound in the room for a long moment is Rhett’s harsh breathing and the drag of skin on skin.

An idea is forming in Link’s head, now, but before he suggests something so strange he, god, he needs to know, finally.

“Rhett,” he starts, voice cracking. “Are you - an innie or on an outie?”

“Am I  _what?_  You’ve seen - ”

“Downstairs,” Link interrupts, desperate not to have to clarify more. Rhett’s quiet, and Link goes on unwillingly. “Do you like, have… what do you have? Down there. In your, uh, pants.”

Link wants to cringe away and crawl under his covers, but he can’t unstick his hand from Rhett’s belly. Rhett’s breathing goes shallow for a moment before he clears his throat.

“Neither,” he says, then, “Both? I-I, it kind of - ” Rhett laughs suddenly, and it makes his belly shake under Link’s hand.

_it’s not weird it’s not weird it’s not weird -_

“I’m not  _pregnant,_  man, I haven’t had anything anywhere.”

“Sure,” Link agrees quickly, not one to be deterred. “But - you know, chickens?”

Link knows it’s a stupid thing to say. Knows he’s being, in fact, stupidly single minded. It still makes Rhett snort, and that’s even better than the way his swollen stomach jiggles where Link’s still cupping it.

“Sure,” Rhett says, voice starting to even out. “Chickens, sure.” It’s a joke in and of itself - as if they didn’t grow up together, as if Rhett hadn’t spent a summer chasing livestock with Link at his cousin’s farm, as if he hadn’t beaten Link soundly the time they’d counted how many hens they could catch -

“Maybe you’re a hen,” Link blurts before he can lose his nerve. “Maybe you just - I mean, these are  _eggs,_  right? F-feel here.” Rhett’s hand is steadier than Link’s somehow when it comes up to press over Link’s shaking fingers, trace the shape Link outlines for him.

It’s a lot. It’s arguably  _too much,_  for Link to sit, still not entirely awake, next to his best friend that he’s in love with and, alright, is also a freaking different  _species_  in the weirdest  _sentient creature that looks like him_  kind of way, and be forced to trace along the kind of swollen belly Link’s always wanted to have some sort of involvement in.

Either being responsible for it or having it, he ain’t picky -

“More of a fish,” Rhett mumbles, which is nonsense until he’s taking Link’s fingers and pressing them, deliberate, into the edge of one of the spheres. It gives under their combined pressure, the edges malleable and -  _squishy._  Link tries to be at all turned off by the conversation.

“Have you ever, you know,” Link manages. He can’t gesture to convey his meaning because for some reason he now has both of his hands spread across Rhett’s stomach, savoring the curve.

“Have I ever what?”

Link digs his fingers in and finds that the firmness under Rhett’s skin  _moves_ , if enough pressure is applied.

“Uhm,” Link manages, then, with the power of distraction: “jizzed.”

Rhett laughs properly this time, which Link is proud of, even if it’s too loud for the strange dim hour of night. In the spirit of wanting to see better, Link nudges closer to Rhett, and though he gets a look from Rhett, Rhett doesn’t stop him, just shakes his head.

“Stuff comes out,” he allows, “when it’s - an outie. Gosh, Link, this is so dumb,  _‘an outie’ - ”_

“Hey man, I didn’t see you coming up with anything better!”

Rhett rolls his eyes; Link feels the motion rather than sees it as he cranes down to press his ear to Rhett’s stomach. There’s the faint rumbling of the two Big Macs Link watched him down for dinner, and the entire pan of Hamburger Helper he ate before that, and as Link’s wondering if Rhett ate even more yesterday than he usually does Rhett goes on speaking and it vibrates through his paunch and into Link.

“I already tried,” he says, hesitates. “It’s not like it just rolls out for any occasion.”

Link nuzzles against Rhett’s skin because it seems like Rhett ain’t stopping him from doing whatever, and Link’s always wanted to do this to a pregnant lady while knowing it was too weird. It’s just as wonderful as he thought it would be, though he’s not sure he’s imagining the way things shift from his touch.

Eggs. Eggs shift.

“Are you even listening?” Rhett says in a huff.

“You can’t get it up,” Link mumbles, then laughs as Rhett shoves him away, back into his bed. It looks like he’s gonna try and wrestle, then, but his balance is off when he starts to stand and Rhett ends up the same place as he was before, breathing shallowly.

It’s a lot of hard cheering up work, squandered, and Link feels his own insides start to twist up as he really examines the situation for the first time, tries to think of a way to help. What has eggs, other than chickens and fish? Well, Rhett, for one, but like… frogs? Though they were kind of already fish, right? Platypuses, they had eggs. Spiders, too, and wasps and shit -

“Oh.” A word pounds at Link’s memory, mostly-forgotten lessons and an episode of  _Bill Nye the Science Guy_  they’d watched while high a few months ago. The thing, the thing that put eggs places. It extended, right? Or stabbed, for some of those freaking bugs. “Oh, ovipositor? Is that how your, uh, stuff works?”

“I don’t  _lay eggs.”_

“Yeah, brother, that’s kind of the problem.” Link scoots forward, and acting on some bone-deep instinct to protect and comfort pregnant people (and using it as an excuse to do the same to Rhett much more blatantly than they’ve ever allowed themselves), starts rubbing Rhett’s back. “You got the eggs, you gotta… posit.”

_“Ov_  already means egg, man, and you’re looking for  _de_ posit _._  You know, a word that already exists?”

“That’s it,” Link soothes. “Lecture me, I know that turns you on.”

Rhett breathes out, a laugh without sound. “I told you, it’s not about… horniness, it's…” His voice is still tight, worried; it’s unacceptable. Link gets closer, wraps his other arm around Rhett’s chest, proper.

“How’d it happen before? When you - squirted.”

_“Don’t_  call it that,” Rhett wheezes. “You’re such a freak. I, look, I was young…”

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking, I just…”

Link hides his smile in the back of Rhett’s shoulder.

“Spit it out, dude.”

“I poked a hole in a tomato.” He says it flat, but it’s still freaking amazing. Link buries his entire face against Rhett to keep from laughing too too much.

“Fuck  _off.”_

“No, no, this is - a  _tomato - ”_

“Yeah, yeah.”

“This is great, though, Rhett, you just gotta - find a place! And then just - posit. Deposit.”

The tension in Rhett’s back finally starts to ease, though he’s still grousing, “Sure, yeah, let’s just run out and buy a dozen watermelons,” and that sets Link off giggling again.

“You branching out to fruit, now? What are you gonna tell the tomatoes?”

“A tomato is a fruit, you jerk,” Rhett snaps, but he’s fighting off a smile, and Link risks running his hand across Rhett’s belly again, addicted. Rhett lets it happen without putting up a fuss. “And I have to - stuff comes  _out,_  Link, and if I’m going to be - good gosh.”

“You have to be able to fit the eggs in?” Link realizes. Rhett shrugs in a  _I’ve been guessing my entire life but I’ve gotten pretty good at it_ gesture and nods, lips pursed. Something like an idea starts to form, though it begins - lower down, radiates up Link’s belly, leaves him swallowing rapidly as he tries to stop himself saying it.

“I - I, I could.” He bites his lips, but it’s no good, Rhett’s looking at him now, and Link’s gonna have acid reflux if he has to hold it in a second more. “You could, I mean. It’s - I wouldn’t have to - you could stop, right? If it - got too much. Just a couple might… help, I mean, could get you started and then…”

It’s a garbled mess of an offer. Link knows Rhett’s gotten his meaning, though, because his eyes are wide.

“Uhm,” Rhett says, all twisted and high-pitched. Link’s glad it’s too dark in here for Rhett to be able to make out Link’s full-face blush. “That’s uh, ah. Sure. Yeah.”

Link opens and closes his mouth; he’d been expecting Rhett to call him a freak and laugh it off (afraid of Rhett pushing him away, reevaluating that idea that they’d be friends forever). He wasn’t expecting Rhett to slowly sit up straight and turn to face him, expression vulnerable in a different kind of way than the  _my body’s doing something weird and I don’t know what to do_  way it’s been pinched all night. Link’s forced to let go of Rhett lest they start this exchange out in a full-on embrace.

“Uh, should we - ”

“Maybe I outta - ”

Link moves to stand up at the same time as Rhett leans in, and they fumble past each other with a kind of remarkable lack of coordination they haven’t had in years. It gets a shrill giggle out of Link as he struggles to extract himself from his blankets and launch across the room in one go, because it’d sure as heck looked like Rhett had been going to kiss him.

Now, Link’s new to this entire  _letting your alien platonic bff lay eggs in you_  thing, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t involve kissing.

“Uh,” Rhett says, like he’s just now realizing the same thing.

“Bathroom,” Link blurts. “I should - yeah, be right back.”

Link is not right back, because this isn’t the type of thing that you rush. Cleanliness is next to godliness, according to his nanna, though she’d certainly not meant this. Link tries to keep her in mind, her and taxes and spreadsheets, because every other time he’s - ahem, done this particular kind of spring cleaning, it’d been in the pursuit of, well, orgasm. Link’s doing a  _favor_  for his  _friend_. He can’t afford to get distracted.

He gets a  _bit_ distracted, but he manages to make it back into his room before Rhett’s exploded or anything, though Rhett does look pretty tired where he’s on his side in Link’s bed. He opens his eyes when Link closes the door behind him. Link’s very glad he’d put his boxers back on, because just Rhett  _looking_ at him while he looks like  _that_ , belly round and impossibly perfect, makes Link’s dick twitch nervously.

Surely Link must imagine Rhett’s nostrils flaring before he pushes himself upright. It’s not an easy process for him - first Rhett has to roll onto his back, then he has to try and fail to sit up before settling on propping himself on his elbows. The entire spectacle has Link very glad of his boxers indeed, as well as the towel held protectively in front of him.

“Being pregnant must  _suck,”_  Rhett grouches.

“I don’t know, man,” Link says before he can stop himself. “Not if, like, you have someone to help you out - reaching things and stuff.”

Rhett rolls his eyes before  _looking_ at Link again. There’s a fine layer of sweat over his entire face and chest, and he is, Link realizes uncomfortably, absolutely beautiful.

“You gonna help me out with  _stuff_ anytime soon, brother?”

Right. Yeah. Probably need to be closer to - oh gosh, yeah.

The distance from the door to the bed is the most treacherous five feet of Link’s life, but he bravely crosses them and then - stands there, still kind of bravely, but also because he’s too overwhelmed to do anything else. Rhett’s staring at him, so Link stares back.

Abruptly, Rhett speaks, and the sudden sound almost makes Link take a step back. “Can you help prop me up? M'all heavy.” His eyes are half-closed and tired, and he’s all pink. Link finds himself fumbling to do as Rhett asks.

“Wh - yeah, sure. Here.”

It takes both of Link’s pillow and the towel he’d brought to protect his sheets from any - uh - alien juice, but he manages to get Rhett settled in a way that seems more comfortable. Rhett’s soft little  _thanks,_  brings Link a warm surge of satisfaction. He’d helped a - if not pregnant, then  _load bearing_  person. If that wasn’t the best feeling in the world, then what was?

“Could you rub my stomach again? It felt nice, before.”

Link reevaluates his previous statement even as he moves automatically to obey. It’s weird to lean over the bed - his own bed, might Link add - to touch Rhett, so he ends up sitting, but that has him facing the wrong way, so Link tentatively kneels beside Rhett.

Rhett’s a little clammy to the touch, but the curve of his belly under Link’s hand still sends a zing of pleasure to both Link’s monkey brain and his dick.

This close, it’s impossible to ignore Rhett inhaling deeply, and despite his contentment with the current situation Link  _had_ to know.

“Can you freaking smell me, man?”

Rhett’s laugh jiggles through the eggs and Link nearly topples over in his haste to get his other hand in on that action. The only way to keep from overbalancing is to widen his stance, but with Rhett on the bed this means Link’s knee ends up between Rhett’s legs. Link’s ready to freak out about it, but Rhett reaches out to steady him at the same time and the strength of the grip on his arms doesn’t give Link any room to move away.

“Not normally,” Rhett says. Link doesn’t remember the question until Rhett takes another big breath through his nose. He tugs Link closer; Link has no option but to straddle Rhett properly, because it’s either that or squish the eggs.

Good gosh, but they’re close now. Rhett still has his pajama pants on, but they’re slung low to accommodate his sudden weight and Link can see pubes out of the corner of his eye. Still no protrusion - how is that even gonna work? Is Link gonna have to just try and line them up and hope?

“Do you think it’s because of - y'know?” Link asks distractedly. Pregnant women can smell better, he’s pretty sure. It’s hard to focus with the enormity of what they’re going to do staring Link in the face. For one, it’s  _holy shit_  levels of weird, and Link’s not 100% sure it’s anatomically feasible. For another, it’s  _Rhett_ , and while that does make Link feel better on a lot of levels,  _it’s Rhett._  Link’s best friend, house co-owner, and, oh yeah, the guy he’s been in love with most of his life. Somehow Link’s gotta pretend like this isn’t hitting every button he’s never admitted he had.

“ - can only ever smell you when you’re like this,” Rhett is saying, voice weirdly low. It’s only the implication in what Link managed to catch in his worrying that makes him say, startled,  _What?_

“I said,” Rhett repeats, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “It’s not new. It’s just only when you’re turned on.”

“You - ” Link is torn from agonizing over the present and future by a mortifying rush of the past. Every time he jerked off in the top bunk, when they’d wrestled - oh god,  _middle school -_

“That’s un-freaking-fair!” It comes out as a whine; Link’s surprised it came out at all. Rhett tightens his grip and doesn’t let Link backpedal out of bed and therefore Link can’t leave the state and change his name, which is  _truly_  unfair.

“Let me go, Rhett,” Link says. It’s meant to be tough, but this time his voice is barely a whisper. Great, good. This is going well. Not only does he have to run away from the house he owns, but his co-owner is gonna see him cry, first.

_“Link,”_  Rhett says, shaking him slightly. “Are you even listening to me, man?”

“No,” Link admits, sullen. He still has a boner, after all this. How truly tragic.

Said boner gets a sudden bit of friction when Rhett hauls Link against him, stomach and all, and headbutts Link.

“Jesus, dude!”

“Sorry -  _idiot_ , stop fighting me - ”

“ - justa ‘bout busted my lip - ”

Rhett makes a little frustrated noise that Link can  _feel_ because suddenly their mouths are touching.

_Kissing,_ his few remaining brain cells supply.  _Rhett’s kissing you._

It takes Link a few moments to process this, then for the knowledge of the action to seep into his body, get his limbs on the same page. He moves his hands from Rhett’s belly to the bed because for one it’s very important to Link not to squish the eggs, and for another because Link’s dick is trapped at an uncomfortable angle and with his brain currently closed for business his dick takes precedence.

“You kissed me,” Link says, dumbly, when Rhett pulls back. Rhett’s face does something strange before settling on a smirk.

“You’re humping my belly, dude.”

So he was. Point, Rhett. “Oh, sorry.”

“S'alright.” Rhett snorts and draws Link back down again, and this time Link goes willingly. He’s kissing Rhett - wow! That’s about as coherent as Link’s thoughts are, because, again: Wow!

“Not that this isn’t great,” Rhett says when they’re forced to stop and breathe, which Link has never found more inconvenient, “but I’m starting to ache and I’m not sure of our timeframe, here.”

“What? Oh - right.” Link looks down the length of their bodies and can’t help but groan at the sight of his cock peeking out from under his waistband and smearing against Rhett’s curved stomach, but that’s - ah, the issue, right.

Now that they’re already here, it’s a non-issue to whip his boxers off, which Link does with gusto. It’s apparently Rhett’s turn to be bashful, though, because before Link can help Rhett out of his pajama pants, Rhett catches Link’s hands.

“Have you -” He stops to laugh. “I was going to ask if you’d done this before, but that’s kind of a stupid question.”

Link smiles at Rhett. “A little bit.” Rhett still looks concerned, though; Link clears his throat. “I haven’t, y'know, let any fish have their way with me - ”

Rhett slaps Link’s chest, but he’s laughing. “Don’t be sick.” This time, he lifts his hips a fraction to let Link slide his pants off.

It’s - well, it’s a little alarming in a primal kind of way that there’s no cock visible, but it’s not like Rhett’s a Ken doll. He’s too tall, for one thing, and for another, there’s a mess of pubes that could hide any sort of mystery.

“Stop staring,” Rhett mutters; Link can see a blush making its way down his body. Link considers this request for all of two seconds before he nudges Rhett’s thighs apart and goes digging in the curls.

“Don’t, fuck - be  _gentle,_  Link.”

For all that Rhett snaps at him Link doesn’t prod when he finds the mysterious hole, doesn’t press inside at all. It’s - well, it’s a puckered little bit of skin right where he’d expect to find a vagina, if Rhett had one, but whatever it is is clenched tight and taut with tension. Link traces the shape of it with one finger; Rhett  _whines._

“That’s so fucking weird,” he gasps, legs twitching. “Gosh, Link, I think I might - ” Rhett’s voice is as strained as Link’s ever heard it.

“Can I lick it?” Link asks. It’s a good question to ask, he’s found. If the noise that tears from Rhett is any indication, he agrees.

“Gentle,” Rhett reiterates. Link’s too busy leaning down and sealing his mouth over the pucker to roll his eyes.

Several things happen at once. One: Rhett keens, though Link has trouble hearing this because, two: Rhett’s thighs clamp down on Link’s head. This is likely because, three: something presses into Link’s open mouth and, four: Link gets a gush of salty fluid across his tongue before something smooth and slippery is threatening to choke him.

Link pulls back frantically, spitting, in time to see - Link was freaking right, it  _is_ an ovipositor - push out another two milky orbs before shivering its way back into Rhett’s body.

“Holy shit,” Link manages, because - yeah, those was eggs. “You coudla killed me.”

Rhett’s breathing heavily and looks like he, too, was nearly just suffocated by a golf-ball sized egg. His nipples are hard, he’s sweating more than ever, and, god, “Did you come, brother?”

Rhett blinks at the ceiling at few times before finding the neck strength to look at Link. “Dunno,” he says, voice ragged. “Felt - a lot.”

Link runs his hands over Rhett’s belly; he’s shaking, now, and it makes it seem like the eggs are quivering. Running on some instinct Link is sure isn’t meant for this, Link shifts until he can kiss Rhett’s chest, his neck.

“How - how many?” Rhett manages after another moment to catch his breath. Link feels around between Rhett’s legs until he finds one of the little eggs and brings it up where Rhett can see.

“Three, including the one that nearly went down my throat, Rhett, thanks for that.”

Rhett mumbles something that could be words as he takes the sphere from Link. Now that he isn’t at risk of dying, Link can see that it’s - really quite squishy, only the barest of films over a liquidy center. Rhett holds it up to the light for a moment, eyes clearing from whatever post-egg state he’d been in, and then, before Link can do anything,  _pops_ it.

_“Dude,”_  Link gasps. “Don’t - what if, those could have  _babies - ”_

“They don’t,” Rhett says, throat scratchy but still confident. Link gapes at him.

“An hour ago you didn’t even know you can lay eggs, and now you’re an expert?”

“They don’t, Link - I told you, I haven’t been with anyone, and they're…” Rhett hesitates, brow furrowing. “I’d be able to tell.” It’s the same tone of voice he gets every time he talks about stuff like this: frustrated and a bit freaked out. Link thinks he’d be scared, too, if he randomly  _knew_ stuff with the kind of certainty that normally only came with standing on a roof and thinking,  _if I fall off'a here, I’m dead._

That isn’t to say Link’s not deeply peeved by Rhett’s treatment of the egg, and as he watches Rhett wipe his fingers clean of what seems to be more like water than not, Link lowers his head to rest on Rhett’s belly.

“Don’t do that again,” he mumbles. Yesterday, such a bald request would have merited teasing, the immediate repeat of the offense, but Link’s cheek is pressed up against a whole lot of evidence that things have changed. Rhett wipes his hand on the sheets a few more times then brings it up to touch Link’s hair gingerly.

“I won’t. I’m - sorry.”

For all that Rhett had said he was starting to hurt earlier, he lets Link lay there and compose himself without complaint, and when Link finally straightens up, tugs him down to kiss for a long, gentle moment.

Well, it starts gentle. But then Rhett’s hand creeps down and wraps around Link’s half-soft dick, and Link can’t be blamed for bringing teeth into the mix.

“Shit,” Rhett hisses, hand tightening in Link’s hair  _and_ around his dick, and then it’s Link’s turn to curse when Rhett bites back.

“You like that?” Rhett says, doing it again; Link moans into Rhett’s mouth in answer. At no point does Link stop to be embarrassed: This is Rhett. It’s that same fact that has things accelerating quick enough that it’s gonna be over before they can even deal with the problem on hand; it takes a truly Herculean amount of effort for Link to pull away from Rhett, get off the bed completely.

“One sec,” Link pants, before Rhett can ask. “Just gotta - ah.” The bottle is right where it should be at the back of Link’s underwear drawer, along with some old tshirts that, while they serve their purpose admirably, will not suffice in these circumstances. Link squirts a bit of lube into his palm, then quite a lot of lube, because while he hadn’t had to struggle to accommodate Rhett’s, uh,  _ovipositor_ in his mouth, Link did have quite a big mouth.

When Link turns back to the bed, Rhett’s staring at him openly, sweaty and pink all over. Link lets himself stare back for a moment before something primal and urgent swells up inside him.

He wants Rhett inside him. He wants - to be full.

Link has to steady himself on his dresser with his clean hand for a moment before he can make it back to the bed. If he were a smart man, he’d be worrying about logistics and the capacity of his body, but the past hour’s been hell on Link’s survival instinct and he’s been hard for what feels like all of it.

“Lift your knees up,” Link instructs, kneeling between Rhett’s thighs again. Rhett manages to get his feet flat on the bed, then his eyebrows furrow.

“Can you..?” he asks, reaching for his knees in demonstration. Link pushes one up, then the other, then cranes up Rhett’s body to kiss him - and to reclaim the towel he’d brought with him. It makes Rhett rock back a bit with the change in angle and it startles a laugh from him.

Link can’t help it if he has to stop and kiss Rhett again for that. But he also can’t stop himself from pulling back and propping Rhett’s hips up as much as he can with the towel.

He squishes one of the eggs rolling around in his haste, but he’ll wait to feel bad about that later. For now, Link  _needs_ , and if the way Rhett’s starting to squirm is any indication, so does he.

“Gonna try something,” Link says, and that’s as much warning as Rhett gets before Link smears his lube-covered hand over Rhett’s opening, forms a fist around nothing. It shocks first a gasp, then a grunt from Rhett, and Link can  _feel_ the ovipositor pressing between his fingers and palm. It’s - weird, definitely, though the fact that it’s Rhett’s goes a long way towards making it erotic.

“Fuck, Link,” Rhett rumbles, and oh, Link hadn’t been able to see his face the last time this happened. Rhett looks - like he’s just discovered something.

“You never tried this, man?” Link teases. “Coulda solved your problem on your own, brother.” He wants to go on, but there’s something widening the base of Rhett’s ovipositor and Link doesn’t need three guesses to know what it is. Rhett’s mouth has gone slack, his chest is moving quickly, and Link doesn’t have a lot of time, here.

Positioning himself is awkwarder than expected, but with one leg slung over one of Rhett’s so they can almost scissor together, Link’s able to line everything up with his lubed hand.

He’s had his fingers up there before. Hell, he’d had his fingers up there half an hour ago. But there’s something very different about digits that you, you know, control yourself and a ridged, twitching  _thing_ that’s rapidly widening even as Link works himself onto it.

“Fuck,” someone says, probably Link, because his ass is flush against Rhett’s hips before he expects it to be and there’s - a lot of sensations at play, here. At his rim, there’s -  _gosh_ , Link can feel the egg as it enters Rhett’s ovipositor and consequently, Link’s body. It’s a slow pressure, a slow stretch, and at first Link feels like his body won’t accept it before all at once it does and he’s left choking on a shout as it rubs against that spot inside him on its way deeper. And deeper it goes, further than Link’s fingers have ever been, a weight inside him that’s not so much firm as - unmistakably  _there_.

As intimately as they’re being acquainted, Link can feel that the ridged thing inside him is - clenching and releasing, almost undulating. He can feel it, in fact, right against his freaking prostate.

And then, as Link’s wondering whether or not this is going to kill him, Rhett wraps his leg tight around Link’s waist and speaks in a broken voice.

“Okay? Are - are you,  _fuck_ , Link, are you good?”

Link has to swallow a few times to even be able to nod. There’s another egg pressing at him now, but this one isn’t gaining any ground, and Link’s just about out of his mind trying to grind down to take it.

“Stop that,” Rhett gasps. “I can’t hold it if you - ”

Link understands that Rhett’s somehow slowing the egg’s progression the moment it pushes into Link’s body, followed rapidly by two more. Link’s distantly aware of Rhett scrabbling to sit up and grab him, but mostly he’s groaning desperately at the increasing  _fullness_ and that damn texture against his prostate.

“M'okay,” he manages, because Rhett’s managed to get a hand on Link’s face and is staring into his eyes from so close, and, “Doesn’t'at hurt?” Link slurs, because if he tried to move his dick at the angle Rhett’s at right now he’d be in a world of pain.

Rhett shakes his head before pressing his forehead to Link’s, and he’s within reach now, so Link kisses him.

Another egg forces its way into Link while he has Rhett distracted and Link loses track of the kiss entirely.

“S'good for you?” Rhett whispers, mouth dropping to Link’s throat. Link hopes his groan works as an answer because he’s rapidly losing his ability to speak. He can’t tell for sure, but it feels like - god, even when there’s no eggs going into him, Link can feel that  _pressure_  intensifying. It’s not yet at the point of pain, but he feels like his insides are all squished up, heavy,  _full_.

Link fumbles to get a hand up to press to his belly. God, but he’s, it’s definitely rounder -

“Yeah,” Rhett rumbles, and then there’s another egg, except this one is  _bigger_ , and it’s only Rhett’s arms around him that keep Link from arching off of the bed as it stretches him. It takes longer than the rest to even get halfway inside of him, and Link is sure it’s not going to fit until one, two, three sharp thrusts from Rhett work the egg inside. Link makes a garbled sound as Rhett pulls out, the texture of his shaft dragging at Link’s rim but the egg staying exactly where it is nestled against Link’s prostate, forcing the ridges along the most sensitive part of him.

Link chokes on air as Rhett’s hand is immediately there, then his fingers are  _inside_ without meeting any resistance and Link doesn’t know how he ended up flat on his back, just that Rhett’s freaking rubbing that monster egg against Link’s prostate and he’s going to, oh gosh he’s going to -

Rhett pulls his fingers out and the egg follows them. That’s what does it, the sudden sharp stretch, the feeling of  _release_ when his body tightens again after it’s gone. Link comes so hard he can’t breathe for what feels like minutes.

When Link can register things outside his own impossibly heavy body again, Rhett’s hovering over him on his elbows, staring like a freak.

“Hi,” Link says, trying for sarcastic but landing somewhere not far from dopey because he can’t seem to stop smiling. At some point both his hands ended up on his belly, and with the come smeared across it now, Link gets a real smooth slide across where he’s freaking  _plump_.

“You scared me,” Rhett says, succeeding in frowning but not, he’d be upset to know, in sounding scolding. He sounds soft and warm and happy, which is great, because those are the things Link is, too.

Link looks down to admire his - admittedly only very slight - paunch and sees Rhett’s still-not-inconsiderable bump. Rhett follows his line of sight and leans out of reach before Link can bring himself to let go of his own belly.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Rhett warns. “I’ll take care of this, you just - stay there, doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

What Link’s doing is falling asleep, but he wiggles his eyebrows on reflex. Rhett snorts at him, then leans down to brush a kiss over Link’s mouth.

When he does, his hand covers Link’s on his belly, and Link feels a rush of  _warmlovefull_  that overwhelms him completely. He can’t help but start laughing, which makes the eggs inside him move, which makes the feeling intensify until Link’s letting go of himself to wrap his arms around Rhett’s shoulders and hold him tightly.

“You’re such a dork,” Rhett mumbles, but he sounds every bit as tender as how he’s holding Link back.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at egocentrifuge dot tumblr dot com for more scintillating content and at least twice as many eggs


End file.
